


You Are Where I Want To Be

by sarcastic_fi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Child Abuse, F/M, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 08:28:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fi/pseuds/sarcastic_fi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam were both put in the foster system as kids, but where Sam went to a safe loving home with Ellen Harvelle, Dean was placed with Alastair and Eve to face years of abuse. Finally, as a pre-teen, he is rescued by a Gabriel, a doctor who isn't willing to overlook the bruises of a scared kid. Years later Gabe and Dean are still close, but while Dean used to feel only hero-worship towards the doctor, his crush is growing and maturing as he does but before he can possibly have a relationship with Gabriel they both have to face their demons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Part I;  
Dean, aged 9

“Do you understand what I'm telling you, Dean?” The social worker asked with a gentle voice that didn't match the emotional exhaustion in her bottle green eyes.

Dean swallowed, and looked through the glass window into the adjourning room in which the younger children played. Sammy was only four years old yet and he'd already lost both his parents. At least Dean had five years with their mom and a whole eight with their dad before death and social services had parted them. What memories would Sammy have of the parents who loved him but couldn't help leaving him? Would he recall the soft kiss of their mother's lips on his forehead before he fell to slumber each night? Would he even recognise the scent of their father's aftershave or the melody of his favourite song that had played so often in the background of their lives. 

What memories would he have of the bother who was about to leave him too?

“I understand,” Dean said, nodding his acknowledgement. Yeah, Dean understood. He understood a lot. Like that his dad wasn't really ill, he was just drunk all the time because he missed mom. An interfering motel owner had called social services out after John had been missing for three days and the sound of Sammy's crying had made it obvious that both children were alone and unsupervised. The guy should have done what most motel owners did, minded their own damn business.

“Great,” the social worker perked up, and Dean wanted to cry because no, it wasn't 'great', she was just stupid. It was just better. Better for Sammy that he get a home even if Dean couldn't be with him. “Samuel will be transferred this afternoon into the care of Ellen and William Harvelle, and you'll continue to stay with us for a few more days until a home becomes available, okay?” She asked and Dean knew she wasn't actually asking if he was okay. It was just something grown ups said to make themselves feel better.

“Can I say goodbye to Sammy now?” Dean asked. She nodded and led him into the children's room complete with a cushioned obstacle course, ball pits and a variety of lame toys that most of the kids seemed to be ignoring in favour of drawing quietly, watching cartoons, or hitting each other. Sam was, of course, in the former category. 

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean said, dropping down to his knees next to his baby brother.

Sammy tuned to look at Dean with an expression of pure innocence and trust. “Dean, are we going home now?” He asked.

“No, kiddo, sorry,” Dean said. “but I've got good news,” he added, trying to sound enthusiastic. “You're going to go on a holiday. There's a woman and a man who have a little girl and they're coming to pick you up later and take you home with them.”

“Okay,” Sammy said, then looked pensive. “And you're coming too, right?”

Sammy, in his short life, had never been separated from Dean. Occasionally in the past few years Dean had felt suffocated by this, the constant presence of a younger brother who was emotionally and physically dependant on him was enough to drive him into foul moods, but he'd never wanted this, and he knew the prospect of being away from Dean for longer than a few hours was not one that Sammy would relish. “I can't come with you Sammy, but it'll be okay. Like an adventure, and I'll see you soon, you know I will,” Dean said, attempting to comfort his brother even as tears welled up in his brother's soft brown eyes. Sammy's little hands reached out to grab onto Dean as the tears fell accompanied by sobs loud enough to draw the stares of the other children and the caretaker who stood by the door way.

“No Dean! No! Don't wanna go! Please don't make me go without you!” Sammy screamed into Dean's cloth shirt and Dean felt a tear fall without permission from his own eyes.

“You gotta, Sammy. It'll be okay, I promise,” he whispered, knowing that he was probably lying. 

“No!” Sammy wailed, holding on tighter as Dean tried to extract himself.

“Richards! Glenn!” The social worker who'd stayed at the door way called for back up and the next thing Dean knew he was being forcibly separated from his baby brother.

Dean wouldn't see him again for another three and a half years.

(Three weeks later)

“Dean, we found you a home,” the social services lady told him. It was a different woman now. This one had frizzy blonde hair and smelt like peppermint, as opposed to the smell of dying flowers which had clung to his last social worker and turned Dean's stomach every time she got close to him.

“With Sammy?” He asked, eagerly. Every week he had a meeting with the social worker and every week he asked if he could see Sammy. He was denied, each time, but reassured that his brother was doing okay, that he was 'settling in to his new circumstances'. Dean was happy Sammy was safe, but he missed him so much and hated being away from him.

“Dean... about that. Mr Harvelle died five days ago, an accident, and since the family is understandably grieving and going through a rough time they have withdrawn their application for fostering. I'm afraid you can't go live with Sammy,” she told him, her expression perfectly bland and soothing. What she was really saying was that he'd never see Sammy ever again, or at least not until Sam was eighteen. Would Sam even remember him? Fifteen years was a long time to go without contact. By that point the little girl he lived with would be more of a sibling to him than Dean. He would have been replaced, forgotten, and abandoned once again.

“Can't Sammy come and live with me in my new home?” Dean asked, desperate.

The social worker looked at him with disapproval shining through her face. “Dean, Mrs Harvelle just lost her husband, you wouldn't want her to lose Sam too, would you? That would make her really sad.”

What about me? Why do I have to lose Sammy? I'm his family. He needs me.

But maybe he didn't. Maybe that was what this lady was telling him, that Sammy was happy in his new family and he didn't need Dean. No one did. Except these new people. Perhaps they would want Dean around?

“Alastair and Eve Huntsman are very good people. They have been married for a long time and cannot have children of their own so they foster kids like you until they are old enough to take care of themselves. They've taken in children from our home before. There was a little girl called Ruby who lived with him for five years before she was reunited with her mother. I'm sure you'll be very happy with them,” she said, with a kind smile.

Dean just nodded his head and stared vacantly out into the room in which he had said goodbye to Sammy three weeks ago. This time, he didn't cry.

Dean, aged 10

“We're so very worried, Zachariah,” Eve shared with the psychologist who had just evaluated Dean. In the five months since Dean had been fostered by the couple he had spoken only a handful of times. At first he had asked about Sam, but now, after being refused so many times he had lost the ability to voice his longing to see his brother.

“Yes, terribly concerned about Dean's unwillingness to talk to us. Tell me, is there anything we should be doing to help Dean's... transition?” Alastair asked, and Dean shivered. His voice was all honey and his words were sugar but Dean's fear of the man came from first hand experience of the pain he could induce with just a simple touch.

“Alastair, Eve,” the large balding man said, greeting the anxious couple like long lost friends despite the hatred Dean could see festering in the man's eyes. “Dean is a healthy young boy but he has experienced so much trauma in the past. Seeing his mother die, his father abandoning him, and his brother being taken away... It could just all be temporary. However I would like to continue to see Dean for a few more sessions at least, and hopefully we can get to the root of this issue.”

“Have you come up with a diagnosis?” Alastair asked, like it was a forgone conclusion that the psychologist would label him with some mental disease.

The man sighed. “Well, I'd hate to rush into a diagnosis, but if I had to chose one at this point I'd say he has selective mutism. From what you've told me he shows some of the other symptoms as well, including maintaining a blank expression with reluctance to smile, withdrawal from social activities and situations. He has certainly demonstrated that he worries more than other children his age, especially about his brother and father but even about other children who he has no emotional ties to, and the sleep problems of course. I can prescribe you a low dose of tranquillisers to help him sleep at night but I'd be cautious about giving him them more than once or twice a week as we don't want to develop a bad habit in such a young child.”

“Of course, we'll be very careful,” Eve agreed with a caring smile.

“We wouldn't want anything to hurt our precious Dean,” Alastair added.

Dean continued to stare blankly out the window.

 

Dean, aged 11

Alastair was smiling when Dean emerged from his bedroom in order to join his foster parents for dinner. This was never a good thing. Eve pottered around, bringing over a plate of bread and a wine glass for each of them before joining them at the table and dishing out pot roast, first a generous serving for Alastair, then a reasonable sized portion for Dean and lastly a small amount her herself. After all, she had to keep her figure.

“Dean,” Alastair smiled at him, “we have some good news.”

Dean was immediately scared. He didn't make a sound, because he never did, not any more. At first he had tried to tell someone, then he had learnt that no one believed a nine year old boy who missed his brother. After that he had stopped talking all together, just like when his mom had died.

Eve leaned over and placed a perfectly manicured hand on his arm. The hair on the back of his neck stood up in repulsion. It didn't exactly make sense, since Eve had never hurt him, but he hated her with a passion equal to the hate he felt for Alastair. How could she just swan around the house with a smile on her lips without a care in the world when Dean lay there bleeding each night, silently crying out for anyone to help him. To save him.

“We've been given the all clear to adopt you! Isn't that wonderful!” Eve told him with a girlish squeal of excitement.

Dean wanted to die. He didn't understand. How could they adopt him? He had been told that while his dad was alive no one would be able to adopt him because his dad still had some parental rights even if didn't make use of them. Unless... Dean turned a face wrought with panic towards Alastair. 

The man chuckled. “No, no, Dean. Nothing like that. Your father is in perfect health, I was told he had completed his drugs and alcohol rehabilitation and is living in a half way house in South Dakota right now.” It was creepy the way that Alastair could practically read Dean's thoughts, but occasionally it came in handy since Dean lacked the ability to voice the question himself.

Then how? He asked with his eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eve said, her voice cloying. “Don't you worry a thing about your daddy. He'll be just fine. Especially now he doesn't have to worry about you or your brother any more.”

“Your father agreed to sign over his parental rights over both you and Samuel. He knows you're in good hands,” Alastair informed him.

Good hands... Dean's eyes flickered down to Alastair's hands and remembered all the things they had done to him, all the marks left on his body and the way they help him down while Alastair grunted and groaned over him. There was nothing good about his hands.

“Here's to us,” Eve said with a giggle as she handed them each a full glass. Blood red wine filled the adult's cups but Dean's was only water. Even so, it still burned as he forced himself to swallow it down. They were toasting to their new family. Dean was being forced to toast to the fact that his old one didn't want him any more.

Once again, Dean had been abandoned.

Dean, aged 12

“Code Blue, room 703,” a nurse shouted out and Dean screamed as someone took the knife away from him and restrained him, forcing a blanket over his arms to soak the blood up and slow the flow down.

He wriggled and bucked and fought so hard but soon enough they were stabbing a needle into his thigh and then everything was black.

When Dean woke up he was in a different hospital room, and there was a doctor stood at the bottom of his bed reading a medical file. His own, most likely.

Despite the fact that Dean didn't make a sound the man turned to him, seeming to sense his change in state. “Hey Dean. I'm Doctor Milton, but you can call me Gabriel.”

Dean tried to move in his bed to get more comfortable but found that although his brain was awake his limbs were sleepy and resistance. The he looked at his body. Restraints kept his arms immobile and his wrists were tightly bandaged. Shame and guilt washed though him and he looked away from the sight back to the doctor who gazed at him with a peculiar glint in his golden eyes.

“If you're wondering what an important man like me is doing hanging around in a formerly unconscious boy's hospital room, then the answer is that I was hiding from doing any real work. I got bored after I ate your jello so I read your file, and let me tell you it's an interesting read, Dean-o. Most kids, even foster or adopted kids like you, have fairly boring files. Things like broken bones from falling off a swing, asthma, the occasional bout of flu... Not like your file. Do you understand what I'm saying?” His tone was light but he stared at Dean with an uncomfortably intense look in his amber eyes.

Dean did understand. The doctor was trying to subtly tell him that his file was abnormally thick. That the things that filled his medical records weren't normal and didn't happen to most other kids, no matter the circumstances. The problem was, Dean already knew this. He had been trying to make other people aware for years, but nothing good ever came of it. They had even moved around several times in order to stop Dean from having anyone to tell and from the hospital staff noticing the numerous injuries he acquired. For a boy who wasn't allowed to play sports because of his so called 'anxiety' problems he sure did get into an awful lot of 'accidents'.

“Right, you don't speak. It's in here somewhere... ah, 'selective mutism'. But Dean-o, just because you don't speak, doesn't mean you can't. I'm here to listen if you needed to,” he said, eyes serious and sad, so very sad. Dean had a feeling that the doctor already knew everything, there was no real need to tell him. Still, Dean wanted to communicate with him. He just hoped he could.

“Doesn't change anything,” he said hoarsely, startled at the sound of his own voice which was alien to him after months of silence. Eight months, in fact. The only sound he had uttered recently had been sobs or screams. 

The doctor didn't look surprised or pleased, he just nodded calmly. “You've told people before, and they didn't believe you?” He asked.

Dean shrugged. Some of the hadn't, especially in the beginning when people had believed he was lying in order to be reunited with his brother. Later, after the bruises started appearing in more obvious locations and the scars didn't fade as quickly people suspected he might be telling the truth. Many made no move to help him, out of fear or a belief that they didn't have the right to interfere. On the occasion that someone did try to help Dean, Alastair moved them conveniently far away, no change of address listed.

“I believe you,” the doctor said, and left his room without another word.

For the first time in almost four years, Dean cried.

 

Gabriel, aged 27

“Can you come with me?” Dean asked.

Gabriel looked both pleased and incredibly uncomfortable. In the year since he had met Dean Winchester he had somehow become a part of the young boy's life. He had only meant to stop Dean from being hurt the way his brother had been hurt, he wasn't hero material but in Dean's eyes that was what he had become. Gabriel had been unable to walk away after the call to Dean's case worker, stayed with him through the trial and even helped him get a new psychologist, one who would actually try to help him rather than just enable his foster parents to molest him. Since his cousin Anna was newly accredited she'd seemed like the perfect choice, after all he knew she was a good person unlikely to take Dean for a ride in order to profit from his pain. Of course, he should have realised how closely that would tie them together. Not that he believed his current situation was purely due to Dean's sessions with Anna.

“It's not my place, buddy,” Gabriel pointed out.

Dean gazed at him with painfully blank green eyes and Gabriel knew he'd hurt the kid. “I just don't want to get in the way. How about asking Bobby if he'd like to go with you?”

Bobby Singer was Dean's new foster father. It was rare that a single man would be awarded custody of a foster child, especially when Bobby wasn't related to Dean in any biological or legal manner. However John had listed him as 'next of kin' since they met and even named him in his will to take care of the boys if anything should happen to him. Apparently they were old drinking buddies, but whereas Bobby tended to stick to the 'functioning' side of the spectrum of alcoholism, it had taken John some serious therapeutic time to regain his equilibrium.

In the five months since Dean had been living with Bobby, Gabriel had seen a dramatic personality change. At first Dean had clearly been expecting some type of abuse, he'd stayed quiet in the grumpy older man's presence and done his best not to do anything that would anger Bobby. Soon enough they'd bonded, Bobby had taught Dean about cars and his no-nonsense call-it-like-I-see-it attitude had brought Dean out of his shell enough to be himself again, or at least what was left of himself. Today was the real test, though. Today was the day he saw Sam again for the first time in four years.

“Bobby said I should do this myself, and I should stop being an idjit and just go see Sammy. Anna said I'm not an idjit, that it's just Bobby trying to encourage me in his own way. What do you think?” Dean asked.

Gabriel sighed. Too many adults throwing their opinions at this kid like they knew it all. Which was utter crap. If anyone knew the fallibility of adults then it was Gabriel. His parents had failed his brothers, both of them, and he hadn't been much better so far, at least according to Kali. “Doesn’t matter what I think, kiddo. What do you think?”

“I think he won't remember me. He's got a new family now, a little sister and a mom. What if he doesn't want a brother?” Dean asked.

Anna had told him, without revealing anything that would break her confidentiality clause, that she'd had a lot of trouble getting Dean to talk about himself, to open up about anything really. Gabriel hadn't found this to be true, apparently Dean trusted Gabe. He guessed the kid had good taste in people after all.

“Well if he thinks that then he's an idjit. Brothers are cool, way better than sisters,” Gabriel confided to Dean, making the teen eye him warily.

“How would you know?”

Gabriel put on a mock hurt expression. “Dean-o, you wound me. I know everything, of course. I can't believe you doubt my omniscience.”

Dean rolled his eyes and Gabriel shrugged. “I had brothers growing up, and my cousin Cas, he had a sister. Trust me, sisters can't beat brothers.”

Dean smiled, but wasn't swayed from his task. “See, you should totally come and this way you can tell Sammy that.”

“You really want me there?” Gabriel asked.

Dean nodded. “Fine then. I'm all yours.”

Neither of them knew just quite how true that was.

That weekend Bobby said goodbye to Dean and Gabriel drove them down to the Harvelle's place. The journey took about four hours during which Gabriel tried to teach Dean that the seventies wasn't the only place to find good music, although he would later reflect on how much a failure that had been. Nervous tension filled the car, unable to be dispelled even after stopping at Biggerson's for some 'food' and pie. Once they reached their destination that all changed. Gabriel admitted, only to himself, that Dean wasn't the only one worried about his welcome. After all, Sam had been only four when they'd been separated and in the last four and a half years he'd had nothing to remember his brother or his old life by, no photographs to clarify fading memories or relatives to pass on stories. There was every chance this would end in tears, and Gabriel really hated to see Dean hurt.

It was more than a pleasant surprise when Sam immediately took to Dean, running to him with all the speed and energy that almost-nine-years olds posses. He hugged Dean tight, making his brother promise he wasn't going to leave him again. Dean hid a tear in amongst Sam's curly locks and told his baby brother that this only proved he was right, they had seen each other again after all, it had just taken a bit longer than Dean had implied at the time. Sam introduced Dean around to his foster mother Ellen who he called 'mom' (and instantly invited Dean to do the same thing, although Dean never did), and his sister Jo. Jo was a sweet little girl a year or so younger than Sam with ribbons in her blonde hair and grass stains on her jeans. She was everything that a little girl should be, friendly, outgoing but not rude, and she had a cute laugh that was infectious. Sam was equally well brought up and cared for, and Gabriel could see his own sadness reflected in Ellen's eyes that they hadn't been able to save Dean from the hell he'd endured before coming to live with Bobby.

Gabriel felt a bit out of place to start with, but then found himself making friends with Ellen as the children played. Ellen, he could tell, was a good woman. Practical, smart, loving and didn't take any bullshit. She was a good mother, but they both knew that she'd never been Dean's mom despite how much she would grow to care about her foster son's older brother.

“So, how'd you fit in?” She drawled out over a glass of whiskey. Gabriel had decided to indulge, comforted by the fact that Dean was so welcome in his brother's life. They would stay the night and head back tomorrow afternoon.

“I'm just somebody who looked at a kid and saw a whole story, not just the bits they thought were convenient to admit to.” He said absently, watching Dean as he interacted with Sam and Jo, noticing how Dean's emotions ranged from joy at the reunion but sadness because he knew he'd never have the life that Sam has, not after what he went through.

“Oh, I doubt that's all there is to the story,” Ellen murmured.

“It never is, though, is it?” Gabe mused. 

“You care about Dean. That's all that matters to me,” Ellen declared.

“I'm just passing through, Ellen. I'm just sticking around long enough to make sure he's set up okay.”

Ellen snorted. “Right. Hun, he's okay, and you know that but we both know you're not ready to leave. My bet is, ten years time you'll still be around.”

Gabriel deliberately didn't look Ellen in the eyes, afraid he'd see only truth in them. He'd never set out to become someone that Dean trusted, knowing that he now had the ability to let him down, to hurt him just like everybody else had. In his head the words 'get out now while you can' echoed in warning, but his heart knew it was already too late. He'd been sucker punched by a thirteen year old.

At the end of the journey, Gabriel asked Dean how he was doing.

“I'm good now I've seen Sam. He's happy, and that's all that matters. I couldn't have done a better job myself,” Dean added, and Gabriel could tell that was how he genuinely felt about the situation.

It was both reassuring that he was taking it so well, and incredibly sad that he'd felt responsible for his younger brother's upbringing. Gabriel could only hope that Dean learned how to be a kid again before he finished becoming a grown up. Otherwise he'd never get a chance.

Dean, aged 14

“John, don't be such a god forsaken idjit! They're your children. You don't let them dictate your relationship, you show them how it's gonna be.”

Bobby had been yelling down the phone line at Dean's father for half an hour, and it wasn't the first time Dean had overheard similar conversations since he'd moved to South Dakota. Bobby was a great father figure, he'd been teaching Dean about base ball, classic cars, and hunting. Last week they'd shot a rabbit and eaten it, but not before Bobby had made sure Dean had helped clean, skin and gut the animal. This was the safest that Dean had ever felt, and the best part was that every few weeks he'd had the chance to spend the weekend with Sammy, Bobby would usually drive them down but occasionally Gabriel would do it, when his work schedule allowed, and that was the best time. This weekend would be different though. Gabriel had told him he couldn't come because he's working but Dean suspected it had something to do with Kali, Gabriel's on-again-off-again girlfriend who didn't seem to like Dean very much (which was fine with him since he didn't like her either). Normally that would mean just Dean and Bobby, but this time he'd invited John.

John had been out of rehab for three years now. He spent most of his time in Minnesota where Dean knew he had another family, a girlfriend called Kate and a toddler who would be Dean's half brother if only he could stand to think about it. Whenever Dean muttered something derogatory about either of the Milligans, Bobby'd smack him lightly over the head and remind him that Kate was a good woman who just had awful taste in men.

Dean hadn't met either of them yet, but that wasn't surprising since he hadn't seen his dad in five years. Every time Bobby brought up the topic Dean would find a way to change it or else just clam up entirely. Not Anna or even Gabriel had managed to get him to open up. Even Sam had tried and all he'd gotten was the company line.

Dean continued to listen to Bobby's side of the conversation, and finally less than half an hour later the phone was disconnected with a clatter and a sigh. Seconds later there was the clink of a bottle of liquor hitting a glass as Bobby poured himself a drink.

“Are you gonna come out of hiding or shall we both pretend for a little longer that you aren't in trouble for eaves dropping?” Bobby called out loudly and Dean grimaced. 

“Does that mean...”

“Don't worry, we're still gonna go see your brother. John's meeting us tomorrow morning and we'll all travel down together in my truck. One big happy family,” Bobby added sarcastically.

“Why do we even have to have him come along?” Dean burst out, surprising both himself and Bobby. While he wasn't above mumbling insults and complaints under his breath, he rarely raised his voice or argued against his elders. It was a survival technique learned from living with Alastair and Eve for so long. “I like it when it's just you and me,” he added, trying not to pout. He was fourteen after all, not a kid like Sammy was. 

Bobby put his glass down. “Because, boy, that's your daddy. He might not have been a good father these past years, but he's still the only one you got. So go pack a bag and get some shut eye. We're leaving early tomorrow. Oh, and Dean. Don't think I've forgotten about your punishment for eaves dropping. We'll talk about it when we get back,” Bobby added in a grumpy drawl.

Dean slouched off to bed unhappily. He barely slept a wink but come morning he was wound up tight enough to run a marathon if it meant avoiding his dad. He came down stairs at six fifteen only to find that Bobby wasn't alone. A man with short dark hair touched with gray, matching his scruffy beard, was sitting with Bobby mainlining coffee. Dean's overall impression of the man was that he was big, although he wasn't fat or overly muscled. He was old, but younger than Bobby by maybe as much as ten years or as few as two, it was hard to tell, and he carried himself like a man who was tired of running from himself.

“If you want breakfast you'd better grab it now before we head out, and come and say hello to your daddy while you're at it!” Bobby said without even looking in Dean's direction. One day, Dean would really like to learn how his foster parent did that.

Dean stared in shock at John, who turned around and stared in shock at Dean.

Neither of them spoke.

He wasn't sure if the surprise was because he hadn't initially recognised his father despite being nine when he'd left, or if it was because he hadn't really believed he'd show. It warmed something inside of him that he had turned up, but it only reminded him of all the times John hadn't been there and the hurt blasted away any good emotions associated with his dad.

“Dean,” he said and it was still the same voice, the one he remembered from childhood stories and laughter at the dinner table. “I... I'm so sorry, son,” John continued, practically collapsing onto his knees. “I would never have given you up if I'd... I thought you were safe, I really believed it was better this way. I'm so god damned sorry, son, so sorry Dean,” he said and Dean stood there numbly as his dad clutched tight around his waste in a hug that left Dean feeling cold.

His dad was sorry?

Dean didn't believe him.

He wanted to, but after so much time and so much pain all he knew was that his dad had abandoned him, and then when he needed him the most he had given Dean away to the man who hurt him. For Sammy the situation had been different, Ellen and Jo were a real family for him, whereas Eve had been playing at mommy and Alastair had been abusing him. He thought perhaps anger was clouding his own judgement, but nothing John did or said could make the anger dissipate so they were at an impasse.

“Can we go see Sammy now?” Dean asked, taking a seat that was opposite Bobby and next to John, primarily so he wouldn't have to look his dad in his eyes.

“Sure,” Bobby agreed easily, but it wasn't unnoticed that he spent the whole trip playing buffer between Dean and John. Sam was nervous and shy around John, but he didn't seem to harbour any ill will towards his dad although Bobby suspected that was because in Sam's head John wasn't really his dad, not any more. Surprisingly Ellen and John got on well, although she never allowed Sammy out of her sight while John was visiting. An adopted mom's fear that her child could be taken away at any minute by the birth parents. At the end of the visit John took Ellen alone and thanked her for raising Sam so well, for giving him a home. He added that he was trying to make up for past mistakes, but he would never dream of doing that by taking Sam or Dean away from the people they loved and trusted. 

Dean listened in on that conversation with mixed emotions, relieved that he'd be staying with Bobby but at the same time he felt like John was saying he didn't want Dean or Sam enough to fight for them. Later, a conversation with Anna would clarify the issue and Dean would understand the ideal of sacrifice for the greater good, but the path to letting John be his dad again wasn't a smooth one. 

John continued to visit both his sons on and off, and eventually Dean allowed them to have a relationship even if it wasn't a close bond. Bobby and Sammy were his family, and Gabriel was his saviour. Back then he really believed that was all he would ever need.


	2. Chapter 2

Part II;  
Gabriel, aged 32

Never before had Gabriel been more in need of getting so completely drunk that he wouldn't remember the night. Usually he only drank to be social, he never went over his limit and kept his mind clear. This was for two reasons, firstly because he was a doctor and sometime he was called in for an emergency and the need to be sober was paramount, and secondly because Michael had drank a lot, despite his young age, and Gabriel had never liked seeing his brother in that state, even less so with the knowledge of what was motivating him.

Tonight was different.

Everything about his day had been shit from start to finish. He'd woken up late, headed off to work only to have one patient die on him, and later had to deliver the news that a long fighting cancer patient who was a single mother of three was running out of options, and time. At lunch he had rowed with the head of neurology about how to deal with a situation and then when he finally got home he found a letter from the parole board telling him that Lucifer was up for parole in three weeks and would Gabriel like some input in the proceedings? He hadn't had a lot of time to think on the issue because he'd then realised he was late for Dean's eighteenth birthday party at the Roadhouse. 

That was how he ended up here, at an anonymous bar, with Castiel walking towards him.

“Brother,” Gabriel greeted him. Of course Cas wasn't his blood brother, not like Michael and Lucifer were, but they were cousins and growing up he had spent a lot of time with Castiel and his sister Anna. 

“You are inebriated,” Castiel observed, sitting stiffly next to him.

“Yeah, drunk too,” Gabriel agreed.

“Should you not be at Dean Winchester's birthday celebration?” the stoic man asked him.

“Oh, I was there,” Gabriel replied with a heavy tone. He waved his hand at the bartender who then brought over five more pretty coloured shots. They had a rapport, him and the barman.

“Things did not go well,” Castiel inferred.

Understatement of the fucking year, little cuz, Gabriel thought, but didn't bother voicing the opinion since Castiel was famous for understating things. Castiel had once referred to the loss of his twin Jimmy as 'unfortunate'. People didn't really understand him, they didn't know that Castiel's stoic face and tendencies to understate tragedy was a defence mechanism. For Castiel it was almost like if people didn't know he was feeling an emotion then he didn't have to actually feel it. Unfortunately it wasn't so, and Gabriel knew that Castiel had suffered greatly with the loss of his brother and his father's abandonment of their entire family. Anna hadn't coped all the much better, she'd taken the rebellious road. If her father didn't want her then she didn't want him or anything to do with his life or legacy. What a threesome of messed up craziness they made.

“He... he came on to me.”

“And you were... surprised?” Cas asked.

“Hell yes! Dean's just a kid, Cas, a fucked up kid trying to understand the difference between being a kid and an adult. I wasn't expecting him to kiss me and... I didn't even know he liked guys, or if he even does,” Gabriel sputtered.

“I don't know the answer to that either,” Castiel said very seriously, “but I am sure that Dean likes you. Anna and I have long suspected that he would make his intentions clear once he was of age.”

“You suspected? Why the hell didn't you tell me, Cas?” Gabriel demanded. 

“Anna believed it would be more amusing this way,” his cousin confided in him. Castiel then frowned, as if considering the issue in more detail. “I do not believe she is correct. Perhaps a first hand witnessing of this would have led to much laughter.”

“Screw you, Cassie,” Gabriel bit at him and downed three of the shots consecutively. When he got to the forth he found it missing.

“I am here for you, Gabriel. I always will be,” Castiel vowed, a glass in hand as he handed the last shot back to his cousin.

They each swallowed down the vial alcohol and ordered another round.

Gabriel understood. When Cas needed a shoulder to cry on, or someone to get drunk with, Castiel would always be here for him. 

That's what brothers do.

(One Day Later)

John Winchester was the last person Gabriel ever expected to see on his doorstep. Of course he'd met the man before, but only at events that involved or revolved around Dean. Dean was the one thing they had in common, the fact they both loved him and wanted to protect him, even from himself. Gabriel couldn't help but feel that the timing was suspicious. 

“Hello, Gabriel,” John said gruffly.

“John. Come inside,” he invited, watching as John nervously followed him into Gabriel's home.

“I think you know what I'm here to discuss with you,” John began.

“Look, you don't have to worry about Dean's... feelings for me. I know they're just a teenage fantasy based on his childhood experiences. I'm not about to let him do something he'll regret, like act on them,” Gabriel hastened to inform John.

John stayed silent for a moment, looking around the room and taking in moments of Gabriel's life. His taste in colour schemes, the artwork on his walls, the photographs on his shelves, the wear and tear of every day life. Then he looked back at Gabriel, serious and earnest. “I know you don't like me, you see that frightened abused kid Dean was when he met you and you wonder how I let that happen. How any father could let that happen to his children.”

Gabriel's heart stuttered, but he calmed when he realised their was no way that John could know about Lucifer and Michael, about how his father had failed his brother's so badly that the children they had been no longer existed. Gabriel had always blamed his father more than his mother, like he should have known and stopped what Lucifer was doing, even though in truth his father was no more to blame than his mother. Or than Gabriel himself. “I don't hate you John. I may not think you're a very good father, but at least you're trying to make it better. That's something. And I respect that you love Dean enough to make sure I'm not going to take advantage of his emotions.”

“Thank you, Gabriel, but that wasn't exactly where this conversation was going,” there was a tone of amusement in John's voice but his expression remained serious. “I want you to know that if you ever hurt my son, I have a gun and I'm not afraid use it, but also that I know my son, he's so much like Mary... and I know that he isn't going to change his mind, or rather his heart. He loves you, for better and for worse, and maybe you won't end up together, but if you do, you both have my blessing.”

Gabriel was more than surprised. “I can't understand how you are comfortable with this?”

John shrugged. “Truthfully I never thought I'd be comfortable with homosexuality. I was in the Marines and growing up my dad was fiercely opposed to the idea, thought it was a sickness. But... I've been through enough, and seen enough to know that monsters come in many different guises, and love comes in many different forms. What matters is love, not what others consider acceptable.”

“Not only that, but... Dean was abused, sexually, by a man. How can you not think that had an effect?” Gabriel asked.

“Gabriel,” John began, seeming uncomfortable, which was pretty worrying considering what he had just told him. “Just... don't get so caught up in the memory of Dean the victim, of Dean as an abused child, that you miss what's in front of you.”

“I don't think I understand,” Gabriel admitted, which he hated. 

“It isn't always about understanding, son,” John informed him with a gentle smile. “Sometimes you just gotta feel it. Anyway, I think I'll show myself out, and Gabriel, good luck with my son, whatever the outcome.”

“Thanks,” Gabriel muttered. He was beginning to believe he needed all the luck he could get.

(Two Months Later)

Gabriel had been successful in avoiding Dean for a record length of time. When he had helped Dean get out of the abusive environment that Alastair had kept him in and found him a new home with Bobby he had become a part of the boy's life, for better and for worse. Ever since they had remained in contact, Gabe had attended every one of Dean's birthday parties, been there to help with homework questions or to help him vent when Dean was angry at his father. Always just a phone call away. The longest they hadn't spoken for had been a month, and that had been during the hearings to get Dean assigned a new home.

The truth was he couldn't avoid Dean forever, nor did he even want to. So finally he found it in himself to answer one of Dean's many messages, and they arranged to meet in the park opposite the hospital that Gabriel worked in.

Dean arrived on time dressed in a leather jacket that had been his father's birthday present to him and a pair of worn jeans with holes in the knees and oil stains everywhere else. He still looked undernourished but the doctor in Gabriel knew that had nothing to do with food consumption or abuse, just the fact that Dean had recently gone through a growth spurt and was six foot tall now. He looked good, but Gabriel knew in a few years he'd look even better and men and women alike would be battering down his door for dates with Dean Winchester. 

“You called?” Dean opened with meeting his eyes with angry green ones that were failing to hide the hurt he felt at being ignored for so long.

“So did you. Ninety four times. You also emailed, twenty eight times, and harassed Castiel nine times. Persistent little stalker aren't you,” Gabriel said lightly.

“You trying to tell me to go away?” Dean asked, and Gabriel could had shot himself for letting Dean think that for even a moment.

“No, God no, Dean. That's not... I just needed some time. Come on, sit down. We need to talk,” Gabriel said with a sigh. He hated being serious, his job was so damn depressing and sombre that he enjoyed having as much light-hearted fun as possible, playing pranks on his cousins or just having a laugh with Dean and occasionally Sam, too.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Dean joked uncomfortably as he sat down besides Gabe on the old wooden bench.

Good starting point, though Gabriel. “No, Dean because we're not together,” he said with heavy meaning.

Dean flushed and stared at his feet. “Yeah, I know that,” he said. “Is that why we're here? Because I kissed you and you didn't like it?”

Once again Gabriel was shocked that Dean had come to the wrong conclusion, maybe that was for the best. “Kind of. Dean, why did you kiss me?”

“Uh, because I like you,” Dean said, sounding like it was a trick question.

“I like you too, but there is a difference between liking and wanting to fuck,” Gabriel said crudely and was rewarded with Dean's flinch.

“Yeah, thanks I know that. I've had sex education, you know,” he said.

“I'm worried you kissed me because I'm someone who you trust, who's always been around and who always will be. I'm the safe option,” Gabriel outlined.

Dean stared at him in shock. “Safe? Fuck that. I risk ruining our friendship to let you know how I feel and you think that was easy for me?” He shook his head.

“I think it's easy to get attached to me romantically because we're friends. Dean, do you have many friends?” He asked bluntly.

“Don't need any,” he said stubbornly.

“Yeah, Dean, you do.”

“How many friends do you have?” Dean asked pointedly.

“I have Anna and Castiel, who are my best friends,” Gabriel said.

“I have Sammy,” Dean responded instantly.

“He's your brother,” Gabriel retorted. “Doesn't count.”

“But Anna and Cas are your cousins!” Dean said in frustration.

“Fine. I have people I work with who are casual friends, like Chuck and Balthazar, then there is my ex Kali who I'm still on good terms with, we get together for dinner every few months and catch up,” he sighed. “Dean, there are lots of people in my life who I can talk to as equals. You can't say the same thing and I need for you to have that. Sammy is your kid brother who you spend your whole time protecting to the point that you pretend everything is okay, even when it's not. Bobby is a caretaker, an adult in an authority position and me... well I'm not sure what I am but that's kind of the whole point. You need to have people around you who you can feel to talk about me with,” Gabriel had a feeling he was still failing to make his point heard, but at least if he pushed enough then Dean would realise he was serious and maybe take the next step even if he didn't know why he should.

“Right,” Dean snorted, “and where am I gonna meet these equals?” There was enough of an emphasis on the word 'equals' that Gabe got the impression that the idea of an equal was a foreign concept because Dean didn't consider himself equal to the people he came into contact with everyday. Which was stupid, the only way in which Dean wasn't their equal would be if he was superior to them, of course Gabriel was biased but that was the facts as he saw them. Still, it did give him an idea.

“Well, normally you meet them in school or at work but since you haven't made any progress in those areas yet I figure I know where you can meet some equals,” he scrawled down an address and a time on a slip of paper and nudged it over to Dean who took it hesitantly.

“And if I don't wanna go?” He asked mulishly.

“Then I'll never take you seriously when it comes to the idea of us,” Gabriel said bluntly. It wasn’t about giving him impossible ultimatums. He just wanted Dean to experience every part of life, and to have a support system in place in case things didn't go the way he wanted them to. Gabriel couldn't risk leaving him without somebody to catch him if he fell, not that he had any intention of letting Dean fall but no one knew the future and it was better to be prepared. Besides, how could he know that Dean was truly making this choice out of a desire to be with Gabriel rather than just having never explored any other choices? They both needed to be sure this was what they wanted before they took the jump.

Dean glared back at him. The dominant expression on his face was a kind of stubborn anger that hid his betrayal, but Gabriel knew the eighteen year old well enough to realise that below even that was the tiniest spark of hope, and that would be enough to ensure that Dean went to the damn address even if only once.

Dean, 18 years old

Dean arrived at the address Gabriel had given him two minutes late, because this way he wouldn't have enough time to over think things and chicken out. A part of him was still pissed at Gabe for forcing him to meet a criteria in order to take him seriously. Like he had to be able to tick certain boxes before his emotions were real; over age (check), sexual experience (limited), emotional stability (zero). He was such a fucking doctor sometimes.

Sighing he abandoned his car across the street from the church and entered the back door quietly. In side was a group of people, some were a few years younger than him but most were a good deal older. They were all sitting in a circle with a table of food and drink a few feet away. The rest of the church was shrouded in darkness giving the circle the impression of intimacy.

“Do you want to share with us this week, Max?” A large black woman with a southern accent asked in a kind voice.

Everyone in the circle turned to look at a kid, couldn't be more than sixteen, dressed in a dirty t-shirt and a pair of baggy jeans. He stared angrily at the floor in front of his worn mud-stained trainers and shook his head. “I don't want to be here,” he spat.

“Well honey you know where the door is, don't let it hit your butt on the way out!” Dean was surprised at the woman but someone in the group chuckled darkly so he guessed there was nothing unusual about her tone. “No? I didn't think so, young man. You're all here because in the past someone you trusted hurt you. I was a social worker for twelve years, I know how much the system sucks and that sometimes it can feel like there is no one to talk to, but that's not true. Not any more. The simple act of just coming to this church on this night means you have a story to tell. I'm just here to provide an audience. So, Dean, why don't you come in and tell us your story?” She said, all the while never turning around to face him.

How the hell did she know his damn name? That was slightly spooky.

Even so, Dean stepped forward and everyone turned in their seats to watch him approach. He found an empty seat in the circle, noting that there was only one chair as if they had been expecting him (Gabriel told them he assumed). He was sat next to a woman in her late forties with straw blonde hair and white knuckles and on his other side a girl about his age, beautiful but she had hard edges that she wore like a badge of honour. She was a survivor, like him.

“I'm Dean,” he said, figuring that even though they all knew his name he should probably introduce himself anyway. His throat was dry and he swallowed some spit down to stop his voice from cracking.

“Hello Dean,” the ten strangers intoned.

“Welcome Dean,” the woman who appeared to be leading the group addressed him again, “I'm Missouri. Why don't you tell us what brought you here tonight?” She invited as she watched him with shrewdly assessing eyes.

“Well, someone I care about gave me this address, told me to turn up. He reckons I need some friends, some 'equals' to talk to,” he shared, still resenting the suggestion as he avoided everyone's gazes.

“And why don't you have any friends, Dean?” Missouri asked in her kind but pointed tone.

Dean hunched in on himself. “I don't need any,” he insisted with attitude.

“Oh Dean, don't be such a fool. Everyone needs friends, and the people who come here are just like everyone else,” she said in a no-nonsense voice.

He raised an eyebrow at that. Just like everyone else? Wasn't that the opposite of why they came here? Didn't they come here because they were freaks, society's rejects? Dean's silence spoke for him it seemed.

“Now, don't be thinking you're so special, Dean,” Missouri chastised him as if he was being prideful and bragging. “Everyone has an experience that makes them wary and mistrustful. You all share the same experiences, more or less, and that's why this is a safe environment to talk about them, because you can't judge someone if it means turning that same judgement on yourself. Out in the real world it's hard to let people in, but deep down everyone is afraid of the same thing even if they don't have the same reasons for it. Everyone is scared that they won't be accepted just as they are,” she said profoundly.

“My dad beats on me, and my god damned stepmother just smiles politely and asks if I want more pie. I hate them both,” Max, the surly kid who'd been unwilling to speak before now shared.

“My ex husband used to yell at me all the time, tell me I was stupid and good for nothing, threaten to take my daughter and sons away from me if I didn't let him have sex with me... even after we got divorced I was still letting him hurt me,” the older woman next to him admitted, she looked scared even mentioning it and seemed to curl in on herself as she talked.

“My mom killed my baby brother, shook him to death, and every since she's been cold and mean and I hate being at home but I can't leave because then no one would look after my other siblings,” a woman who was probably in her mid twenties told the group, her tone full of disgust although Dean couldn't tell if it was aimed at herself or her mother.

“My dad hurt me,” the pretty dark haired girl next to him said, her voice was strong but quiet and she had an English accent. Dean was intrigued by her, which was rare for him. He so rarely felt the compunction to get close to anyone who wasn't Sam or Gabe, he'd even had trouble connecting with Bobby and his dad even though they were family.

“My boyfriend lent me out to his friends to pay of his drug debt,” a small redhead with pale skin and bitten nails told them. 

Eventually after hearing more stories of horrifying betrayal by loved ones, Dean found enough courage to share a snippet of his own tail. “I was in a foster situation and my foster dad used to come into my room and... I guess the term for it is the bad-touch. I tried to tell people but after a while I just stopped talking. I got saved, though,” he tried to end the tail on a bright note.

“Does that make it better?” The English girl to his right asked.

Dean didn't understand what she was saying, he frowned and she clarified her question. “That you were saved, does it make up for what happened to you?”

Dean stared into her bruised brown eyes and knew instantly that no one saved her, she'd had to do it herself. “I don't know,” he admitted.

“Me either,” she said sadly.


	3. Chapter 3

Part III  
Dean, aged 22

The day of Sam's graduation from college was a sunny one. All through the ceremony Sam smiled like the gigantic dork he was while Ellen, Jo, John, Bobby and Dean all watched on from the crowd of enthusiastic parents and teachers who were clearly eager for their summer to begin before the next school year. Gabriel had been invited too, but he'd declined, saying it wasn't right as he wasn't family. Dean had tried his best not to take that personally, because as far as he was concerned Gabe was the next best thing to family and no one here had more right than him to be here, except maybe Dean as he was Sammy's brother. He hadn't said anything like that to Gabriel though, graciously accepting the other man's decision and had spent the day ignoring the buzzing of his cell phone which let him know that Gabe was texting. It may have been immature of him but honestly he didn't want the negative emotions he associated with Gabriel to impact on his day. Things had been strained between them over the past few years, partially because Dean refused to let Gabe push him away and also because Gabriel had been dating people who weren't Dean. It sucked on multiple levels, but hey, that's what therapy was for.

After they sat through the ceremony they just about had time to say 'congratulations' to Sam and take a photo before the kid was off with his school friends. It was so relieving to see how awesome Sammy grew up, he was outgoing, honest, intelligent, driven and most of all; happy. Dean knew that everything he'd gone through was worth it if this was the outcome. 

“I'm gonna miss that kid when he's at college.”

Dean froze. “What?” He whispered in shock.

Ellen, who was smiling motherly in the direction of Sam, turned to face Dean. “What was that sweetie?”

“College? Sam's going to college? Away from here?” He managed to get the words past his dry throat without sounding like he was choking and it was a miracle.

Ellen's face fell and everyone around him looked uncomfortable. Dean guessed he was the last to know. “Uh, no I mean that's great. I always knew he was headed for college, he just never said...” anything. Sam had been so vague when talking about the end of the summer that Dean had almost forgotten that it meant he'd leave. Somehow in his head Sam always stayed close, but from Ellen's remark he guessed that was just a pipe dream.

“Oh, honey. I'm sure he was just waiting for the right time,” Ellen said soothingly.

Dean did his best to smile in response but inside he felt like punching someone. Himself, most likely. Why hadn't his brother told him? What was Sam going to do? Never mention it and just send him a postcard from his campus novelty shop? Obviously he wasn't the awesome brother he'd imagined himself to be over these past few years. Great, another way in which this year was going to suck.

(Later that night)

“Cheer up, grumpy!” Bela shouted into his ear drunkenly.

Bela, Max and Dean were out at a bar. They'd stopped going to the meetings a year or so ago, insisting that they were old enough to make their own decisions. Besides, everyone else who'd been there when Dean met Max and Bela were gone. They were the last ones standing. Since then they had replaced group therapy with alcohol, bowling, watching films and hanging out in random secluded locations with alcohol. Normally these nights were full of the type of antics you couldn't write home about. Tonight Dean's heart just wasn't in it.

“Leave me alone, Bela,” Dean replied, hunching in on himself.

“Oh, come on. I'm sure I can find some way to make you feel better,” Bela suggested in her smokiest voice, her hand running smoothing up his thigh towards her goal. This wasn't an abnormal situation, tit had happened several times before and led to mutually beneficial sex. Not this time. She froze, groping at his soft cock through his jeans and getting no response. Dean kicked and dislodged her hand.

“Sex isn't the answer to all of life's problems,” he told her.

She sat back, offended.

“It's the answer to all of my problems,” Max muttered, staring longingly at Bela who'd been the object of his unreturned affections for the past four years.

Dean sometimes felt guilty that he'd had sex with Bela, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it completely. He knew now that he wasn't gay, probably just bisexual. Anna said that he didn't need to worry about labels, that emotion mattered more than gender and people were in such a rush to belong to a group, heterosexual, bi-curious, gay, bisexual, transsexual... that they missed what was in front of them because of it. For Dean it wasn't about missing something, it was about trying to convince someone else that he was worthy. At least, that was the way it felt most of the time. After his first time with Bela he'd been so confused and had felt shamed by his sexual experience despite the fact that he knew it was normal to have sex with people, with girls, his own age. It had been his first consensual sexual experience but he'd still been plagued by the same emotions that reminded him of Alastair.

He'd called Gabe straight afterwards, still drunk, and ranted at him. It had been the middle of the night and Gabriel hadn't been impressed. Dean may have said something along the lines of 'this is what you wanted, right?'. It took Anna a while to get him through that, and then she'd had to nudge Gabriel too in order to get her cousin to forgive that phone call and the guilt he probably felt because of it.

Dean was such a mess. Still, years after Alastair had been imprisoned, locked away so that he could never hurt Dean or anyone else again. They'd tracked down some of the other foster kids to back up Dean's testimony. One had died from an accidental overdose of heroin, another had hung themselves, and Ruby, the only name he had, had been found living life as a prostitute, selling her body in order to raise her son who looked suspiciously like Alastair. She had refused to testify, insisting that he had loved her. Closer surveillance of the situation showed that Alastair paid for her apartment and still visited her once a month, and stayed the night. After that the case had been a sure thing. Dean should have felt safer. Instead he'd only been confused, angry, and ashamed. Gabriel had been the one who'd helped him, who'd made him feel like a whole person instead of that damaged little boy. Dean guessed that was ironic considering Gabe was the one person who couldn't look at him and see that broken little kid.

“I'm getting out of here,” Dean said, throwing down a few bills and storming off. That was the last time Bela tried to seduce him. Not long afterwards she started dating Max, who wasn't the most exciting boyfriend but she revelled in his adoration of her. He was good for her, better than Dean would have been and he was always glad that things turned out that way for her.

That night he called Gabriel from his cell. No one picked up, but once his answering machine kicked in and Dean heard his voice he couldn't stop himself. “What do you want from me, huh? I did every thing you asked. I made some friends, fucked some of them too. I'm not some stupid fucking kid who's confused. Except when I am confused. Which is now. You make me confused. Do you even want me at all or did you set me on this path hoping I'd find someone else? I won't. You're the one, damn it. Stop playing with me and tell me how you feel because I-” BEEP.

The message was cut off. 

~*~

“The child is in love with you, Gabriel,” Castiel said in his monotonous voice, sounding more like he was reciting the first ten amendments rather than chastising his cousin.

Of course 'the child' in question was Dean. Despite Dean having left childhood behind long ago, Gabe's cousin, who was a good seven years younger than him was just as close in age to Dean as he was to Gabe, still he insisted on referring to Dean as such. “It's a case of hero worship mixed with hormones, Cas, he'll be fine once he meets someone he likes enough to sleep with them more than once,” he dismissed Castiel's concerns.

“He's twenty-two, Gabriel, no longer young enough to be so entirely consumed by hormones as to excuse his attitude,” which was ironic coming from the man who constantly referred to Dean as a 'child', “and he seems to know his own mind. Do you know yours?” Castiel asked with that odd tilt of his head of his. Gabriel theorised that Castiel was dropped on his head as a baby. More than once. However this didn't seem to have affected his intelligence, just his ability to act like a human being on days ending in 'y'.

“I know that the kid has a hard time and I was the one who made it all better, put a band-aid on his freaking past and kissed it all better. Figuratively speaking, Cas. You know why I had to help him, and it wasn't entirely unselfish. He built me up in his mind to be someone I'm just not, and never could be. So yeah, I know my own mind, and I know his. That's why I know this will pass, he'll realise I'm just as human as he is and that'll be it,” Gabriel summarised darkly. Every time they talked about this, and believe him he just wished this was the first conversation they'd had about Dean's emotional well-being, it reminded him of his brothers and how he still felt like he had failed them. Helping Dean didn't absolve his guilt, but it had helped him sleep a hell of a lot better. Michael was still dead, Lucifer was still in prison, but Dean was safe and sound, and Gabriel was going to do everything he could to see that the kid stayed that way, even if it meant he had to push him away just to motivate Dean into having an emotionally healthy relationship with someone.

(Four months later)

“Do you accept that your brother moving away to attend college is not a rejection of you?” Anna asked and Dean avoided her gaze, staring instead at a photograph on her wall of her, her brother Castiel and their cousin Gabriel at her graduation party. 

“I accept that he doesn't think of it like that,” Dean answered. Most days he did his best to thwart the questions that Anna threw at him like flaming daggers aimed at his heart. He had been in some kind of therapy on and off since he was four, since the first time he stopped talking, and mostly he had resented it. With Anna it was different, maybe because she seemed like a real person to him and not just a text book on legs waiting to write him a prescription or cart him off to the looney bin, but Dean suspected it was most likely because she was Gabriel's cousin. He trusted Gabriel, and so by extension he trusted Anna.

“But you do,” Anna said.

What Dean liked most about the fact that Anna was his therapist rather than the other douche-bags that had been in his life was that she didn't write things down. Well, he supposed she did but during their sessions she never strayed from him to note something on a pad of paper. He had once asked her about that and she said that not only did she have a good memory but she also tapped the session. Once it was over she would make notes and then destroy the physical recording. It was important to her that her patient received her full attention.

“Do you see Gabriel's evasions as rejection?” She probed.

Dean shifted in his seat, tearing his eyes away from the photograph containing the topic of conversation and instead examined the carpet under his feet. “It depends,” he said.

“On?”

“Whether I'm having a good day or a bad day,” he admitted.

“On your bad days you interpret any hesitation or negative stimuli as rejection of yourself. That's natural, Dean, everyone, to some degree, experiences that. If you are thinking of ourselves in a negative way then we interpret other peoples reactions to us as negative. It's really the same principal as smiling at a stranger and getting a smile back as opposed to ignoring them and being ignored in return. When you are happy, the world is a good place, when you are sad it isn't, only the world isn't the thing that changed, Dean, you have.”

“So what I should just be happy all the time and more happiness will come?” Dean asked snidely.

“No. Life is a balance of ups and downs and no one can escape that. You will just have to except that there will be good days, and there will be god awful shit days that make you want to crawl into the corner of your basement and never emerge.”

Dean laughed. Anna always said it like it was. “Yeah, there has been plenty of those,” he agreed.

“Can you tell me about one of your bad days?” Anna asked.

“Relive it?” Dean said. “That doesn't sound like something that's gonna help me.”

“I'm the doctor here, Dean. Doctors orders,” she joked with a smile.

He sighed and found another photograph to look at. This one was of Gabriel as a child. There were also two other boys in the photograph, both older than him by about ten years. They were his brothers, Dean knew, and he also knew that both were gone now, in their own ways. Everyone had bad things in their past that they would rather never happened. “Okay. I... um... the day I stopped talking.”

“The day your mother died?” 

“Uh, no, not really. I mean technically I did stop speaking the day she died but to me it doesn't really count. It was the next morning when the police came and they asked me what I'd seen. I wanted to tell them all about the man who killed my mom and the house burning down but I couldn't. Every time I tried nothing came out, and my dad was getting more and more desperate to know and even the officers seemed frustrated. They left after two hours with no leads and my dad was so angry. I felt so bad, because I'd failed him. I failed my mom.”

“Heavy emotions for such a young child to have, especially considering you were grieving for your mother at the time,” Anna said.

“So was my dad, and he understood what it meant, to have someone be dead. He was hurting so much, and I couldn't make it better,” Dean explained, feeling every inch as frustrated with himself now as he had back then.

“Dean,” Anna said gently, “you weren't meant to be able to make it better. You were four, he was the grown up. It was his job to make you feel better, to feel safe, and he failed, because he is just as human as you or I, and people fail all the time. It doesn't make it right or any easier to bare, but it's the truth.”

Dean left that session feeling lighter than he had since he'd found out Sam was leaving for college. He was there now, at Stanford and from the phone call last night it sounded like he was having a great time. He didn't resent his brother for being able to have the normal college experience, just like he didn't hate him for growing up surrounded by love and affection. He was happy for his brother. What he struggled with was what it said about Dean that he couldn't have that. Sam left, it sucked but he as long as there were phone calls and emails and Christmases then he could deal. It was okay.

With that in mind Dean set out to visit Gabriel. This tension had existed between them for too long. He couldn't take it any longer. Gabriel needed to clarify some things, even if it ended up making everything worse.

It started off okay, with Dean calmly asking to come in. He instantly noticed the lack of Kali's stuff and guessed they'd broken up (again). They never lived together but when they were dating she tended to leave expensive silk scarves and perfume bottles lying around the place. The picture of them as a happy couple that Gabriel only propped up when they were together was missing, and that was enough proof for Dean. He built up to the point, but soon found himself stonewalled and frustrated. It was the same thing all over again. Gabriel telling him he wasn't ready, that his emotions weren't real... blah, blah, blah. He was twenty-two for god's sake. He knew what he was damn well feeling!

“Screw you, Gabriel,” Dean spat out, too angry to mince words. “You're always telling me that I don't know what I'm really feeling, that I'm just mistaking gratitude with love, but I know what I feel. Maybe it's you who doesn't know?”

“Oh Dean, I know what I feel. Trust me.” Gabriel bit back, equally as angry.

“Then tell me. If you don't want me, let me know. I'm a big boy now, Gabe, I can handle the truth!” Dean shouted.

“Can you? Could you really handle hearing that I don't want you in my life?” Gabriel asked, and for a moment the words echoed around in Dean's mind, fear freezing his vocal chords as he considered the possibility that it was true, that Gabriel didn't want him (just like everybody else).

Then he breathed again, and the paralysing self doubt dissipated enough to let him speak. “I deserve to know if that's the truth.”

“We don't always get what we deserve, Dean,” Gabriel said and stalked out of the room leaving a stricken Dean in his wake.

~*~

“Gabriel, are you trying to undo all the hard work I've been doing with Dean?” Anna demanded only half joking.

Gabriel didn't answer. He didn't want to have this conversation. 

“Gabe, I know how you feel about him. Maybe your reasons, whatever they are, for keeping them to yourself are good, but maybe you owe Dean the truth as well?” She suggested tentatively as she took the seat next to her cousin.

He laughed hollowly. “What if I don't have a good reason, An? What if all I have is regret because I was frustrated and angry and I hurt Dean for no damn reason?”

“Then,” she sighed, “I guess the rumours aren't true, and you are just as human as the rest of us.”

Silence lingered between them, sober and dark. Then Anna giggled, breaking the atmosphere, and Gabriel felt her delicate fist punching his arm. “Lighten up, Gabe, it isn't the end of the world. If you didn't mean it then I'm sure you'll find a way to make it up to him. He isn't some fragile child who needs constant assurances, he's an adult who knows you better than you give him credit for. He knows himself better than you think he does. Come on, I'll buy you a drink and you can try and persuade me that he's better off without you,” she teased.

“Fine but make it a good drink,” he said, and smiled for the first time since his argument with Dean.

~*~

Gabriel knocked on the door of Dean's apartment, half expecting to be turned away without a chance to explain even if deep down he knew Dean wouldn't do that.

Dean opened the door and let him in with a silent nod and they made themselves comfortable in the living area. Well, as comfortable as they could be with the tension between them thick enough to cut with a surgical knife.

Dean was the first to speak. He sounded tired, and looked it. Gabriel felt a stab of guilt and had to suppress the immediate desire to insist that Dean take a rest before they had this conversation. “I have jumped through every hoop you've put in front of me, Gabe. When are you going to admit to yourself that I'm an adult who's perfectly capable of making my own decisions and mistakes? When are you going to just give me an answer?”

“I didn't mean to make our relationship an obstacle course, Dean,” Gabriel said.

“Okay, fine, you didn't mean it. That isn't an answer,” Dean wouldn't be fobbed off with excuses or psycho-babble. “Do you love me?” He asked and Gabe sucked in a shocked breath. That was pretty damn forward. He was almost proud of Dean's ability to ask that question except for how awkward he now felt.

Still, he figured he owed him the truth. “Yes, but that wasn't why we went through all this.”

Dean looked relieved, happy even, but only for a second as anger replaced the emotions. “Was it fuck! It was why I went through this. I've been in love with you in one way or another since I was twelve and you god damned knew it. I never knew if you cared about me the same way,” he said, his green eyes flashing pain and anger.

“I've always cared about you Dean. When I saw you in that hospital bed... you reminded me of Michael. No one believed him either when he told people Lucifer was abusing him. I get it, brothers rough-house and it's easier to believe that it was just a case of sibling rivalry rather than the horrific truth. But if just one person had believed him then maybe he'd be alive today and Lucifer would have been stopped before it got bad enough to warrant a prison sentence. God, even now my parent's can't admit that Lucifer was molesting Michael. I knew someone was hurting you, and when I saw your file everything made such clear sense,” Gabriel drifted off, lost in the memories. His brother's cold body lying on the floor, blood seeping out of the back of his head while his mother shrieked hysterically. The first time he'd seen Dean, watching the boy sleep unaware as his foster father talked with the doctor nodding in his fake concern and the woman at his side lying through her teeth to protect the paedophile she's married. As soon as the doctor had left them alone Alastair's expression had turned nasty, his touch perverse on Dean's pale pre-teen skin as he'd stroked the bruised flesh. His wife had turned away, unable to watch the display but complicit in it by keeping guard. Gabriel had hated how helpless he had felt both times. Saving Dean from that situation had saved his soul, he was sure of it, if he'd been unable to do anything for the boy Gabriel knew he'd have spiralled down and never resurfaced.

Dean had never heard the details but he had known the basics. It was still a shock to hear the situation described by Gabriel and watch as pain twisted his features up. Even twenty years later Gabriel was still haunted by his brother's pain. “Is that the only reason you care? Because I remind you of Michael?”

“No, that was only at first. Michael and you have nothing in common, he had his own issues that prevented him from seeking help. When I was older I found his diary, in it he admitted he didn't want help, not at first, that he'd seen Lucifer's touches as a sign of affection and love. He was only seven, and Lucifer was thirteen. Old enough that Lucifer should have known better and Michael couldn't be expected to. Later, after being exposed to the world, he came to understand that Lucifer was sick and he blamed himself. Lucifer had turned to more violent pleasures before Michael was even a teenager and he tried to tell people, if only to stop the pain. When no one believed him he took his own life. He was fourteen. I was only seven at the time. When I first found out I blamed myself, thought that if I hadn't been born then Lucifer would never have been able to get away with it,” Gabriel admitted. These issues had been put to bed a long time ago, but occasionally they still haunted him, especially on the anniversary of Michael's death or a family birthday. It hurt to remember how happy and loved he'd felt as a child, when Michael had been in such pain.

“It wasn't your fault,” Dean sounded positive of this.

“Probably,” Gabriel said wryly.

“What Alastair did wasn't my fault,” Dean announced bravely, meeting Gabriel's eyes square on.

“Do you really think that?” He challenged the younger man.

Dean flushed slightly. “Not always. But I know it's true even if I still sometimes doubt myself. Anna says it's natural,” he shrugged.

“Yeah,” Gabriel agreed roughly.

Silence descended as they let old ghosts return to their graves. “You aren't like a brother to me, Dean, and I stopped seeing you as a kid the moment you kissed me on your eighteenth birthday. I just never wanted to make you regret knowing me, or ever have reason to stop trusting me.”

“It isn't like I don't totally understand why you did all those things, and I know you've always put me first. It's one of the reasons I love you so damn much, but I'm not about to let the fact that someone hurt me when I was a kid stand in the way of the best thing that ever happened to me. All I've ever wanted is for you to love me the way I love you,” Dean admitted. He hated this damn chick flick stuff but he didn't see anyway around it. Gabriel wouldn't take the first step, so Dean had to push himself to.

“I do love you, in every way. I'm not going to leave you or betray you. You're what I've been waiting for since you woke up in that hospital room and gazed at me with those broken green eyes,” Gabriel said. “You know, in a non-creepy way.”

They both laughed. “I know. Maybe now you can except that I'm old enough to be yours?” Dean suggested with a hint of desperation.

“Okay. Now you can be mine,” Gabriel smiled, and leaned in to Dean, planting a kiss on his mouth that quickly turned passionate. This time no one broke away, physical contact seemed to be a necessity and they only stopped kissing long enough to snatch a breath before starting again, only interrupted caressing in order to strip out of their clothes until they lay naked on the carpeted floor, bodies heated by lust as they writhed and moaned. Gabriel made sure to kiss every inch of exposed flesh, licking at Dean's sensitive perky nipples and lapping at his navel before travelling south to mouth at his cock. He didn't give him a blow job as much as a tongue bath but it seemed to work for Dean who was hard and leaking pre-cum before he was finished. Dean grew impatient, trusting his hips up into the air in frustration, so he pulled Gabriel up to resume kissing, moving his mouth from the doctor's sinful lips down his throat not even bothering to try and avoid stubble burn as their skin rubbed against each others. Dean sucked at the hallow of his life long love's neck as he palmed the other man's cock, stroking until Gabriel was close to orgasm.

Dean's hand left Gabe's cock and the older man groaned in deep disappointment. “Nu uh. Want you inside me. Like no one ever has been.” 

Strictly speaking that wasn't the truth, and they both knew it, but at the same time Gabriel knew it was how Dean honestly thought. Dean had never invited Alastair to use his body, never enjoyed it or participated in the painful penetrations that his foster father had forced upon Dean as a child. This time would be unlike anything Dean had previously experienced, and Gabriel was more than honoured that Dean trusted him enough to share this with him.

He nodded and stood up, pulling Dean with him. “The bed,” he whispered as he pressed a row of kisses to Dean's freckled shoulders. “Carpet burn is a son of a bitch and I don't want a single moment of this to cause you pain,” Gabriel said and they made their way to the bedroom.

Gabriel made sure he put a condom on before the making out continued, both of them weren't far off being unable to think coherently and he wanted to do everything right, everything perfect.

“Come on, please,” Dean moaned desperately as he parted his legs to allow Gabriel access. He'd handed his lover some lubricant so Gabriel could prepare him, but he hadn't realised how damn slow he'd go. It was torture. He kept brushing over his prostate, a thing that Dean had known had existed but had never actually felt before. It was like a rush of pleasure that jumped up his spine and overloaded his brain and every time Gabriel did it Dean thought he was about to come.

“I think you're ready, but you know despite what I said there will be some pain, right?” Gabriel warned him, lining up to fuck him as he caressed Dean's hip bones.

“Ya huh. Just fucking get in me already and stop being such a doctor about it. Sex doesn't need to come with a warning label,” Dean said, and Gabriel smiled.

“Okay,” he agreed and let Dean have it.

Despite his confident words Dean did tense up as Gabriel trust in, shallowly at first but he spent his time calming Dean down with kisses and soft words until Dean was mellow enough to enjoy the sensations building up inside him. Then Gabe found the right angle to graze his prostate and Dean was unstoppable as he pushed into every trust and egged his lover on.

It didn't take long before both men were coming. Afterwards they lay in each other's arms, sticky and sweaty and not giving a damn because this was what they'd both been waiting for. Dean knew that if he had nightmares Gabriel would be there to remind him that Alastair was in the past, unable to hurt him now. And Dean would be here to prove to Gabriel that even haunted men could be someone's hero. These were two people who loved each other, not just the good parts but all of them.


	4. Chapter 4

Part IV; (epilogue)  
Dean, aged 26

Dean was so freaking nervous. His palms were sweaty and the tie around his neck felt like it was constantly choking him. Every time he pulled at it to get more air Ellen would slap his hand away and readjust it with a firm tug. He hated the monkey suit, it didn't feel like him and no amount of cooing from various family or friends could convince him that he looked anything less than like a douche. 

“Woah! Woah, calm down!” Sam said, grabbing Dean who was struggling to breath and sitting him down. He rubbed his brother's back rhythmically until his breathing adjusted and his face returned to it's normal pallor. “What was that about, Dean?”

“I can't do this, Sammy. I can't marry him. It's a mistake, what if he realises what a mess I am? He's just doing this out of guilt. And me, what do I know about commitment? Dude, I couldn't even commit to a house plant let alone a person!” 

Sam laughed.

Dean glared at his brother. “You can't be serious? Dean, you've been in love with Gabe since you were like thirteen, and you've been committed to him for years. It's been a long hard road and trust me, this is the easy part,” Sam assured him.

“Easy for you to say. You and Jess have been married to each other from like the moment you set eyes on her,” Dean pointed out, although not unkindly.

“It must be a family trait,” Sam said. “Also, Gabe knows you're a mess. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but it isn't the best kept secret in the world. But you know what, it's okay, because he loves you anyway. Now come on, you need to get down that aisle and marry that man before he thinks you've changed your mind.”

“I haven't!” Dean snapped, and then realised what he'd said. “Huh, guess I don't need to worry so much.” He could stand the monkey suit, the flowers and the ridiculously sweet wedding cake that he was sure Gabriel would demolish in less than two hours, if he got Gabe at the end. Gabriel made the world a better place, made Dean want to be a better person. Not to prove something to someone, but because Gabe deserved a Dean who was everything he could be, and Dean deserved to be everything he was. No more hiding himself,, no more keeping quiet because he was afraid of people's reactions. No more being alone. Gabriel was his family, and it was about to become official.

“Let's do this!” Dean said, and readied himself.

Dean walked down the short aisle with Bobby on one side and John on the other, meeting Gabriel at the end. It felt symbolic of his journey, all the things he had gone through and endured and now he got his reward; Gabe. John left his side to sit next to Kate and Adam while Bobby sat with Ellen and Jo. Sam was already up there, waiting impatiently to give the rings out.

“I understand you've prepared your own vows for this commitment ceremony,” the officiator said after the usual mumbo-jumbo and legal jargon had been spoken.

Gabriel cleared his throat. “Dean. I think I knew this moment was coming since the day you asked me to come with you to visit Sam for the first time. Ever since then I've been a part of your family, and now before all our friends and relatives I'm so very proud to announce that I'm officially making you my family, too. Over the years I've been amazed at how resilient and persistent you can be, and you reminded me about all the good in humanity. Thank you. You already know this, but I'm going to say it every day for the rest of our lives; I love you, and I'm never letting you go.”

Dean didn't quite know how to top that. He took a deep breath and did his best to clear his throat and ignore the emotion swelling up inside of him. “Gabriel, you saved me, literally. You were the first person to believe me, and believe in me. Thank you. You never let me doubt myself, always encouraged me to experience every part of life. What I want you to always remember about today is that this is me, telling you that you are every part of my life, and I've never loved anyone the way I love you, and that's always going to be true.”

“You may now kiss and seal the contract of commitment before your loved ones.”

Dean leaned in and felt the tender touch of his husband's lips, the beginning of his forever. The kiss quickly turned racy, it seemed that even after four years they were still in the honeymoon period. A wolf whistle from the audience broke them apart and Dean blushed and Gabriel smirked at their audience. 

“Let's go celebrate,” Gabriel said softly.

“Let's go continue our life together,” Dean corrected him, and they walked down the aisle, embraced by John and Bobby, by Ellen and Jo, by Sam who Dean suspected may have teared up during the ceremony, and by Jess who didn't let her large baby bump stop her from squeezing the life out of Dean and Gabe. Anna kissed them both on the cheek, while Castiel attempted a hug that was stiff and awkward but seemed to mean the world to Gabe so Dean figured it was the best his new cousin-in-law was capable of. Bela air kissed them, maintaining that a hug would ruin her dress, and Max, who clearly had been crying, slapped Dean painfully on the back and threatened to make Gabriel pay if he ever hurt Dean. Adam and Kate both had kind words for the newly married couple, and there were also a few of Gabriel's associates from the hospital who wished them well. Just before they left the church, Gabriel lit three candles. One for Dean's mother, another for Michael, and the last for Lucifer, who had died in prison from an infected stab wound almost a year ago. All these people helped them become who they were that day, and how could they not be grateful when they had the life they had always longed for.


End file.
